When the Singing Stops

by Di Morrissey

  Kate threw back her head and laughed. ‘I am not alone, I live in a community of fifteen people!’ She explained that most of the Amerindians on the property had been born at Caraboo, it was as much their home as hers. ‘But life for them is harder than it’s been for a long time. The hunting isn’t like it used to be and even the fish are becoming harder to find. Too many people overfish the rivers for the big market in Brazil. The balance has gone. The future is uncertain for the Amerindians. Those on our place are okay for the time being, but for thousands of others, it’s tough. It’s no good trying to leave them as subsistence farmers, quaint and colourful though it may look for the occasional tourist.’

  ‘There isn’t work in the towns or cities?’

  ‘These are simple people, mainly poorly educated. They are not city people. Certainly the young people get lured to the bright lights, but it is more difficult there for them without the support of the family and village. Or else they leave to work as domestics or in the gold-mines or on farms here and in Brazil. Then it’s hard to resist consumer goods and little, if any, money goes back to the villages.’

  ‘It’s the story of indigenous minorities all over the world,’ said Connor sympathetically. ‘You sound like a disciple of Xavier’s.’

  Kate smiled. ‘The Amerindian political evangelist, eh! The emerging conscience of the country.’ She paused to take a sip of her drink and to shout briefly in Carib to Dali. ‘He’s the right man at the right time in this part of the world, in my opinion. Guyana is at the crossroads and someone of greater integrity and wisdom than our current crop of politicians has to speak up for the ordinary people . . . to help them get a real stake in this country.’

  ‘You really think he’s going to become meaningful for the other races too?’

  Kate thought for a moment. ‘I’m no politician, can’t abide the big city power games that people play but I’ve seen this country put on some ridiculous political acts over the years. I can’t see why an Amerindian can’t emerge as a unifying national leader for all races, one who is going to stand up against foreign exploitation.’

  Connor gave Madi a nudge. ‘It seems there’s a visionary or a revolutionary behind every tree.’

  Madi took his hand. ‘Perhaps you ought to listen carefully to what they’re saying. Then you might be able to write off the trip as work and feel great about not wasting time.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t be nasty, it doesn’t suit you.’

  They took in the scenery for a while, the craft being carefully guided by the bowman signalling to the helmsman.

  ‘Have they started farming native animals down your way?’ shouted Kate, above a temporary acceleration of the engine. ‘You know, kangaroos and that sort of thing.’

  Madi shrugged. ‘You can get ‘roo steaks in supermarkets now.’

  ‘Aborigines have some big emu farms in the west, I think,’ added Connor. ‘And crocodile farming is big in the Northern Territory. I once had a croc burger in Darwin. Tasted okay, bit fishy. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Well, it’s an idea I have for Caraboo, get the Amerindians farming wildlife. It’s becoming pretty scarce in some areas. There’s something neat about the idea of farming wildlife to preserve it, and at the same time give people who need it an economic boost. We’ve got crocs we could farm . . . the black cayman.’

  ‘Couldn’t this go hand in hand with tourism?’ asked Madi, and Kate nodded in agreement. ‘Good idea, but getting the money and support won’t be easy. Still, that’s hardly a reason for not dreaming, is it?’ She passed the punch again, causing Connor to raise an eyebrow in resignation and refill his mug while Madi declined. She wanted a clear head to develop fresh ideas for the policy paper on tourism in Guyana that she was determined to prepare for Xavier. Kate’s little dream fitted neatly into Madi’s embryonic plan.

  The boat skimmed up a small tributary and turned to a landing from which a wide track wound through a stand of flowering trees. A young Amerindian girl hurried down to help carry the bags as the party trailed up to the compound.

  The wooded pathway opened onto a cleared area of white sandy soil dotted with mango trees burdened with over-ripe, fat yellow fruit under glossy green leaves. In between them were frangipani trees, blossoms scattered like a cream and gold carpet. By the clearing were four small Amerindian-style thatched guest bungalows with a small palm-leaf awning shading a hammock at each entrance.

  The main house was large and almost completely open-sided. Inside the low mud brick walls were hammocks strung between poles supporting the heavy, thatched roof. This looked to be the main rest area, a sort of verandah where hammocks replaced sofas and chairs.

  Kate led them inside. ‘Not your five-star hotel layout, but it works well enough,’ she said, more in assurance than apology. In the open plan area behind the hammocks was a long wooden dining table and chairs of solid English oak. Several internal walls of mud brick sectioned off rooms but went up little more than a couple of metres towards the high-peaked thatched roof that capped the building. A cool breeze circulated through the whole living area.

  ‘A very practical design,’ observed Connor, keeping a straight face. ‘Totally air-conditioned.’

  Amerindian women and girls seemed to be everywhere and one of them carried out a tray of cool drinks from the kitchen and put it on the table. ‘Help yourselves, and relax,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll join you later . . . have a few urgent matters to attend to.’ She disappeared out the back and they could hear a firm discussion ensue about the state of the generator.

  ‘I’m not getting in a hammock or I won’t get out,’ said Connor. ‘That trip was exhausting.’

  Joseph grinned. ‘Don’t go to sleep, you’ll miss the afternoon swim.’

  ‘That sounds good,’ said Madi, who was browsing through a massive bookcase. The spines of nearly all the books were missing and wonderful old editions of English literature faced the world in tatters. She gently drew out a volume of Dickens. ‘Oh dear, what a shame. Did the humidity get to them?’

  Joseph came over with a cool drink for her. ‘No, it was Oscar. Oscar the Wild, she calls him. A billy goat. Big fellow. I wouldn’t argue with him. Came in and ate the lot. Just the backs, though. I think he liked the glue.’

  ‘How very Guyanese, fact or fiction,’ mused Connor as he randomly reached for a book.

  They were still chuckling over the quaintness of some of the titles when an Amerindian woman came in and introduced herself as Amelia. She seemed to be the housekeeper in charge. ‘Come, I take you to your hut.’

  Their bags were on a plain wooden bench and the large room was furnished with a cane-framed bed, a mosquito net swinging above it, a small wooden cupboard, a chest of drawers that smelled of mothballs, and a rickety desk. The bathroom had a stone floor, a modern septic toilet and a shower that worked by gravity from a large drum of water sitting outside on a mini tower. ‘Sun keep him warm and we fill every day,’ Amelia smiled.

  Opening a cabinet above the sink she showed them that Kate had provided every amenity from toothbrush and toothpaste to soap, deodorant and shaving cream.

  ‘Five stars,’ quipped Connor.

  ‘Careful, mate. At the slightest suggestion of sarcasm you’ll end up sleeping next door with Joseph,’ retorted Madi. ‘It’s different, that’s all. And I like it.’

  The ceiling of the hut was high, and loose dried palm leaves rustled lightly in the breeze. Both rooms had electric lights but Amelia showed them the candles and matches. ‘Generator sometimes sick,’ she said with a big smile and left, closing the woven palm leaf door behind her.

  Connor flung himself on the bed. ‘What bliss.’

  ‘I’ll say. A real shower in the interior is a novelty,’ grinned Madi.

  ‘No. I mean being here with you. Come here,’ he opened his arms.

  Madi lay down beside him and he wrapped himself around her, kissing her face and neck and hair before finding her mouth, nibbling her lips and plunging his tongue between the
m. She kissed him back, then realising the extent of his passion, pulled away. ‘Let me get in the shower, I feel so yucky.’

  Connor licked her ear. ‘You smell like the forest and you feel wonderful. No, stay . . . we’ll shower later . . .’

  They peeled away their clothes and made love beneath the arched, leafed roof where, unnoticed, geckos and other tiny creatures scurried between the papery brown thatch.

  They were sound asleep when Amelia called outside their shutters. ‘Madam says to come, she bathing with the water dogs in the creek now.’

  They joined Joseph and Kate at the big house as the sun began to sink low to the horizon. Kate was wrapped in a sarong over a black one-piece swimsuit and they followed her as she walked outside calling in a high pitched but affectionate voice. ‘My darlings . . . my loves . . . my own dear ones . . . come along . . . come along.’

  Madi and Connor exchanged a glance, unsure just who she was referring to as no one else was in sight. Then around the corner of the house waddled several huge otters.

  ‘Good lord,’ exclaimed Connor.

  The otters, each as long as Madi was tall, were being herded by Amelia and several boys with sticks. They were followed by several smaller otters.

  ‘Oh, they’re absolutely gorgeous,’ said Madi excitedly. They were giant otters, some bigger than seals, with solid heads too large for their cumbersome flippered bodies, protruding eyes that held a ferocious glint, and snouts that sprouted large spiky whiskers. Despite their awkward swaying gait they moved with determined speed.

  The darlings, sighting their mistress, rushed forward and one of the young boys ran protectively in front of Madi and Connor who stood mesmerised by the herd of screeching and grunting animals complaining in querulous old-man tones.

  ‘Do stand back,’ commanded Kate, ‘they are very protective of me. Don’t try to pat them.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. They could take a hand off,’ muttered Connor. Madi was fascinated at the cooing and loving phrases that Kate poured out to the wild creatures as they rushed to her, nudging and rubbing against her, leaping up on their tails to push their front flippers against her body. She picked up a small one, the size of a large dog, cradled it in her arms and marched down the trail towards the stream, her throaty, cultured voice floating back as Madi, Connor and Joseph followed at a distance. ‘My beauties, my dear ones . . . have you missed me . . . what joys you are.’

  They soon reached the creek and at a tail-dragging, running stagger, the otters dived into the water and Kate waded in beside them.

  ‘She’s tamed them and bred them up. She knows more about them than anyone in South America, I think,’ explained Joseph to the incredulous visitors. ‘I come here a lot to pick up her beef and it always amazes me.’

  ‘It’s safe to come in now,’ called Kate. Madi and Connor gingerly edged into the creek while a gaggle of local children came plunging out of the shrubbery, squealing with delight, to dive into the water. Joseph squatted on the bank, puffing a cigarette, amused by all the activity. The children swam around with the otters who dived and leapt and swam underwater, continually returning to Kate as she called them by name.

  ‘This is Madison and Connor, they are guests and friends, be nice to them,’ admonished Kate. Madi was suddenly confronted by a face surfacing in front of her, alert eyes, dripping whiskers and a barking mouthful of teeth. As she stood waist deep, her knees were hit by a powerful rocketing furry body and she lost her balance, falling under the brown water that churned with the energy and activity.

  Gradually they joined in the play as they were accepted, but the giant otters only allowed Kate the game where they would leap in her arms and dive over her shoulders.

  Madi and Connor joined Joseph on the bank as Amelia produced a bucket of fish. Kate waded out to get the bucket and the brood waddled from the water to receive, one by one, a large fish from their mistress. ‘They have a pecking order, and once they have come to the table showing their manners, then it’s a free for all,’ laughed Kate, tossing the rest of the fish into the creek where all the otters raced for them.

  ‘They’re amazing,’ declared Connor. ‘I had no idea they got so big. What will happen to them?’

  ‘This is their home, they’re free to go any time. But why should they? They have a good life here. It was an experiment and it seems to have worked quite well. The younger ones could not defend themselves alone in the wild, I suspect. Sometimes the wild creatures go back and join their friends, other times they entice their friends to join them. I hope to do this with other creatures.’

  ‘She’s got others,’ warned Joseph.

  ‘They’re only babies, Joseph. Now, let us go back and change for drinks before dinner.’

  Amelia served cold beers and rum punch and Connor presented a delighted Kate with several bottles of wine they’d brought from Georgetown. ‘Oh, such a treat. Thank you. Now it’s drinks all round for everyone.’ And she produced a box and lifted from it what Madi thought at first were tiny ring-tailed possums.

  ‘They’re coatimundis,’ said Joseph.

  The size of kittens, they were a brindle brown, their long tails banded in black and dark brown coiled around Kate’s arm. She lifted one and handed it to Madi. ‘What a dear little face,’ exclaimed Madi as the baby nuzzled its long pointed snout with a rubbery nose into her neck. It squeaked and mewed until a doll-sized feeding bottle of milk mixture was produced and it sucked contentedly in Madi’s arms.

  It was only later when the sleeping coati was returned to its box that Madi discovered the warmth on her chest where it had nestled also came from a large pee stain.

  They showered again and dressed for dinner, which was heralded by a call from Amelia and launched by Kate ringing a small dinner bell beside her plate. Amelia, accompanied by a shy barefoot daughter, shuffled in and set the baked dinner on the table. Kate served and passed the assorted plates, some plain glass, others fine bone china, with a poise and graciousness as much suited to a stately home in England as this thatch and mud brick home in the lonely vastness of the South American savannahs.

  Kate proposed a toast. ‘Welcome to the Rupununi, my paradise. Thank you for sharing it. I hope you carry away pleasant memories.’

  As the meal progressed, with Amelia being summoned by the bell twice to remedy a lacking implement and condiment, Kate talked of her childhood in this place. She told them of the great snake that lived in her parents’ bedroom and each night had to be shooed from beneath the covers of their bed before they retired, and of the numerous adventurers who passed through.

  ‘Tell them the diamond bird story,’ suggested Joseph.

  Kate chuckled. ‘Ah, that was my grandfather. He was a prospector and a diamond buyer. He had a pet toucan and a visitor arrived to find him sitting at the kitchen table with his pet toucan chained to the table. You know those magnificently coloured birds with the huge beak, I think it was the red-billed variety. Anyway, it was his pet and used to roam free around the house, but on this day it had swallowed a parcel of diamonds he’d just bought. So he fed it castor oil and was sitting there with forceps, a dish of water and a diamond scale, waiting for nature to take its course so he could retrieve his diamonds!’

  Amid the laughter, Kate shook her head. ‘Ah, such dreams and schemes he had. I remember my grandfather every time I recite one of my favourite lines of poetry . . . from Thomas Hardy: “He does not die who does bequeath some influence to the land he loves”.’

  ‘And you, Kate, what are your dreams for Caraboo? Did you see yourself settling here when you were living the high life in London all those years?’ asked Madi.

  ‘In my heart I always knew this was my home. I’ve been back here seventeen years. I haven’t been back to the UK for nearly nine years.’

  ‘Don’t you miss the culture, theatre and concerts?’

  ‘I have my father’s gramophone, my grandfather’s books—sans spines—and I listen to the BBC world service on my radio.’

&nbs
p; The dinner plates were cleared away and a bowl of sliced mangoes, melons and bananas smothered in custard served for dessert.

  ‘Have you thought of having paying guests here? You’re certainly set up for it,’ said Connor. He sensed finances must be difficult for this proud woman.

  ‘I intended to do that. But my timing was wrong. I worked out an itinerary for people to come for long weekends. The bank manager asked, why wouldn’t I have people here all the time? And I said, what an appalling idea! I like my own time and space, too.’ She gave a throaty laugh. ‘I did not get the loan I asked for and I was sent packing with the words, you go into business to make money, not to enjoy yourself.’

  ‘Sounds just like a bank manager,’ said Madi with a glance at Connor, who responded with an exaggerated mock smile.

  ‘It was also the time of Forbes Burnham’s era. A political disaster. Thanks to the bank I discovered Burnham was serious when he said he didn’t want tourism turning the country into a nation of lackeys. At least the place has been preserved.’

  ‘Now is the time, perhaps,’ said Madi, glancing again at Connor.

  Kate rang the bell for Amelia to bring the coffee. Then she unfolded her long lean frame, stood, and smiled at them. ‘We shall see what the fates have decreed. I don’t drink coffee at night, so I’ll leave you to enjoy it, together. Tomorrow, I shall show you my country. Goodnight. Sleep well.’

  Later, snuggled under the cloud of mosquito netting, Madi talked to Connor about Kate and Caraboo. ‘Connor, this is what everyone should see, share this sort of experience . . .’

  ‘She’s got more stuff planned tomorrow . . .’ sleepily he began kissing and nuzzling Madi.

  ‘But don’t you think this could be made into a proper tourism project . . .’

  ‘Madi . . . stop talking, and just kiss me. I’m on holidays.’

  ‘Exactly!’ She nudged him in the ribs. ‘And look where you are! This should be available to everyone. Think how it would help Kate, help the local people, start a small industry that could grow and—’ He stopped her words with a kiss. Madi’s mind was buzzing, but then she began to switch her attention to Connor, responding to his lovemaking . . . and putting other thoughts on hold . . . temporarily.